


Wildflower

by aTARDISfullofotters, Whispering_Imp



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fun, Games, Lingerie, Smut, lots of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3680400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aTARDISfullofotters/pseuds/aTARDISfullofotters, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whispering_Imp/pseuds/Whispering_Imp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I would have been content simply because I'm happy when I'm with her. But she is more. Oh, she is so much more. "</p><p>"The woman of my dreams, that's who she is. From the day I saw the girl with a thistle in her hair, a silhouette at the train station, I knew the kind of girl I want to fall in love with. Beautiful, independent, delicate, strong... Like a wildflower in the fields... I never imagined I'd find the likeness of her, yet it is in the strange turnings of the world that she appeared, just as I've given up hope."</p><p>"I found her, and I kept her as my own. I vowed to worship her... Who'd knew it sent me on a embarrassing trip to Victoria's Secret? But it was all worth it just to see her laughing with delight, throwing her arms around me, and screaming 'God! I love you!'"</p><p>"It was worth it. For she is my love, my angel, my wildflower."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to bespectacled-artist and w-is-for-writing on Tumblr for all your help in the beginning!
> 
> Note from whispering-imp:  
> aTARDISfullofotters and I worked very hard on this one, making sure it is as close to perfect as we can possibly make it. The many nights and days we sit behind our computers were a real pleasure. So, sit back, enjoy, and don't forget to tell us what you think!

Benedict was standing guard over the stove of warm sloppy pancakes when Sarah bounded over beside him, bumping him playfully with her bum. “I think you should buy some cute lingerie for me darling.”

"Oh? But the pair you're wearing is cute," he answered after stealing a glance at her behind. He patted her ass with his free hand. The said panties were one of her favorites: sky blue with little white bows on the front, the white print on the back stating ‘I freaking ❤ you’.

She wore them with a grey shirt that said "My ideal weight is Benedict Cumberbatch on top of me." It was a Christmas present given to her some years ago, which resulted in a good five minutes of laughter.

Sarah stuck her tongue out, grabbed the spatula from Benedict and flipping the pancakes. The sizzle of the pan was a familiar sound on a Saturday morning. Ben, though an excellent cook, can burn almost anything when there’s distraction.

“No Ben, I meant something new. I want something from you! I know you like it when I wear lingerie." Sarah accented this by pushing her hips slightly towards his hand.

Benedict traced the outline of her panties, contemplating. "Humm… I'll think about it."

With the fluidity only a ballerina could accomplish, Sarah had snuck under his arms, grabbed some Post-Its and a pen off the counter, and was back to the pancakes in record time. She tossed the spatula to the side to scribble some numbers down.

He didn’t even get to look at it. With triumphant glint in her eyes, she folded the paper carefully and slipped it suggestively into the front pocket of her lover’s sweatpants. Sarah’s other hand sneaked its way to his behind, pulling him closer. Leaning on her tip-toes, she gave his a quick peck on the nose.

“Start thinking _now_ ,” she said with a wink.

* * *

Days later, When Benedict set foot into Victoria’s Secret he was… overwhelmed... to say the least. And this was only due to the decorated scene. The black framed photos of some rather _scantily clad_ women that lined the crowning immediately drew his attention. Mhmm. That was some extremely good marketing. His eyes lingered for a second longer than they probably should have before sweeping downward and finding racks upon racks inlayed into the walls, holding every form of bra imaginable. Honestly, how many different types of bras could there be? Right in front of him on the floor, big boxy rectangles held most of the panties. Honest to God, how many different panty styles and patterns could there be?!?

At least he was there at a convenient time. He had deliberately chosen to go when there was no possibility of a line, unless doorbuster deals on a weekday morning nowhere _near_ Black Friday were a thing. Benedict seemed to be the only person around… Thank god for free mornings before filmings!

He thought he knew what he was doing. How hard could it actually be? Finding a style Sarah liked is less than impossible. Lace, flowers, and little bows on things…. It was a simple matter when one puts his mind to it. If there was one thing that Benedict was proud that he noticed, it was that. But what if Sarah doesn’t like what he picked out for her? Would she wear it anyway, secretly hating the design? This was supposed to be about her. Shit, this was difficult.

But of course, all thoughts of style went out the window once he began to browse the racks. What did those little numbers mean? 34A? 36B? What was Sarah again? Struck dumb by the complexity of things, Benedict had completely forgotten the piece of paper Sarah had given him.

 _I thought she was this size….maybe this one?_ Benedict thought, picking up an obtuse turquoise bra. Even though, as an actor, he had his fair share of acting in drag, he never had to worry about these things. You put on whatever the wardrobe department provided. It was never comfortable, now he came to think of it. _However do women stand wearing it all day?_ He made a mental note to put that into consideration if ever he was to play a women again, not that he get much chance to do it now that he’s older and off stage acting for the most part. He kind of missed the fun of cross-dressing, despite the discomforts. Were he not anxious about the task at hand, he would have laughed about the absurdity of it all. _Bras should be illegal._

How the hell were t-shirt bras different from their new “Sexiest bra yet!”? And what does bikini briefs even mean? As he stared dumbfounded by the sheer number of choices, the purple satin started to blend into the black-lace items. Colors blurred in front of his eyes.

 _This is ridiculous! It’s not as if I haven’t set foot in the wardrobe department before!_ He thought.

Agitation began to set in as he looked at yet another god damned bra. He raked a hand through his hair, his eyebrows raised in confused frustration.

He began thinking of alternatives. Would it be better just to give her an IOU and have her pick out something? The idea went down the drain the moment it appeared. No, no, no! It had to be something from him. He wanted, no, needed, to see the look on her face when she sees the hard work he had put into choosing a gift for her. He needed to see her in something downright sexy that _he_ had picked out.

As he turned round and round in indecision, a woman seemingly appeared out of nowhere from behind the racks. “Hello! I’m Jennifer. Can I help you with anything?” A female voice startled him out of his thoughts. She must have seen Benedict’s panicked deer-in-the-headlights look. She seemed young, had to be early 30’s. Her curly brown hair was pulled up into a ponytail, which otherwise would have likely been a nuisance to deal with.

“Thank god. I-I have no idea what to do.” He stuttered, “Yeah. I’m here to-to find something for my wife.”

She smiled peppily at him. “Do you know her size?”

 _That was it!_   She did give him numbers! Benedict cursed internally for forgetting about it until now.

“Yeah, I do actually! Hold on, I’ve got it here somewhere...” He patted his pockets for a moment until he found his wallet. He fumbled through several receipts for god-knows-what until finding the folded sticky-note. He held it out to the salesperson rather unceremoniously.

After reading the numbers for a second, she looked up. “What do you think she would like? A stocking and garter set? Push-up bra and a thong?”

_What would Sarah like?_

Sarah is a woman that knows she doesn’t need a push-up bra to be sexy, and that’s what Benedict loved about her. She is most enchanting with her sleepy smile and morning bed head. She is endearing with the placid post-sex glow on her face as she giggled at him. Her content of life makes her most lovable. And, though Benedict wouldn’t love her less without it, her curves and lines and freckles added to her sexiness. She is sexy as she is.

“How about we start by taking a look at the lace bras and panties?” the woman suggested helpfully after a moment of embarrassing silence. She seemed well-accustomed to dealing with perplexed male customers.

Benedict nodded. _Have to start somewhere…._

They moved through a labyrinth of lingerie sets to get to the right place. They were at near a wall at the back. With practiced efficiency, Jennifer began pulling out drawers filled with various color and pattern options. The gentle protesting groans of the drawers echoed throughout the store.

Popping back up, she immediately launched into her speech of several different styles and how they fit.

His hard-found confidence slipped away at the overwhelming wide variety of options. _How in heaven's name can he know what would fit right on Sarah?_

“I honestly have no idea what she would like.” Benedict said sheepishly. He felt bad for not being able to do better, thinking he could have pay more attention to the woman of his life. He was completely clueless when it comes to his sensitivity. Not that people don’t often admire this trait of his in his presence, it’s just that he always waves it off as polite compliment.

The woman had clearly interpreted from the fact that a husband is buying lingerie for his wife that he had something extremely sex and erotica in mind. She suggested super tight push-ups that are pulled in from both sides. Benedict winced. It looked more like a torture device. Then she took out fancy sets that are decorated with feathers and suspenders. Benedict wondered how those are put on. Then there were weird colored sets and prints that clearly suggests particular kinds of… love making. Benedict can totally imagine Sarah giving him funny looks if he gave her those. Nope. Nope. No. No. _No._ What is he going to do?

“How about one of the more comfortable ones?” Jennifer suggested. She finally caught on that Benedict wasn’t looking for thrilling sex experiences, he wanted the best possible for his wife. She could tell he was really trying.

Benedict nodded, relieved. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Next she moved onto patterns and colors. _Black?_ Too basic. _Bright pink?_ God no. Sarah would think he’s trying to treat her like a baby girl. _Going for the norm_ … she would probably think. _Sooo boring._ It just isn’t the color that’d suit her. Benedict could picture Sarah laughing as soon as the salesperson suggested it.

The black on white was a worthy contender, timeless, however… there was something too… simple about it. It’s like the kind of design people would choose out of sheer necessity, not the kind that one buys for their sweetheart as love offerings.

He let his eyes stray from the pair the salesperson was displaying for him. And there is was. Hanging close behind her. Why hadn’t he seen it before? A quick nonchalant lean and he could see the panties folded neatly underneath. It was everything Sarah would want. It was perfect. Benedict cleared his throat, interrupting her spiel.

“Sorry… I think I got it. That set right there. It’s perfect!”


	2. Chapter 2

“Yeah baby, don’t miss me too much. I’m almost home.”

There was a click as the line went dead.

Vaguely, Sarah wondered why her husband was being exceptionally impatient today. He knows her hours. She was only a few minutes later than usual. A small voice at the back of her mind whispered that he had something planned…

She ignored it. He just missed her, that’s all. He probably worked too hard on a scene today and desperately need some proper, loving, company. But then again, there was something in his voice...

She had pushed the morning incident when she asked her husband for a little something to the back of her mind over the weeks. It had become a little nagging feeling at the back of her mind. It was the sort of idea that projects a sort of fuzzy color whenever she opened the drawers, but whenever she tried to locate it, it slipped away, leaving behind an itch that can’t get scratched. The feeling irritates the more one tries to locate it. Strangely enough, it likes to tease. One always gets so close to identify it when distraction of one form or another comes along and it is immediately forgotten again.

On this particular day, the distraction was the soft ping from Sarah’s phone. Benedict had texted soon after he hung up. He stressed his distress for not having her near him NOW. There was another ping. “My hands need something lovely to grope at.” She could imagine him saying that with a whine. The grown-up baby!  
Sarah drove on, thinking thoughts about her husband with affection.

Benedict had been away filming for the past month. And Sarah was sure he must had missed her terribly. As much as he loves his job, life as an actor can deprive a man of many things. This was the first day in a long while since they were actually able to sit back and spend some time together.

When she walked into the house, he was lounging on the couch, stretched out like a cat. He was wearing his typical wear, jeans and a navy blue button down. A bottle of beer rested between his fingers, already half empty. He had classical music on: Felix Mendelssohn’s Venetian Boat Song, Op. 19 No. 6, on repeat. The long fingers of right hand was playing the invisible piano at his thigh, drumming and dancing across the strong muscles she knew was hiding under the denim. He hummed soundlessly, his eyes closed, relishing the music. He had started piano playing once again with much enthusiasm. “The Boat Song” was the one he had been working on for several weeks. Sarah loves seeing him so happy and free. She closed the front door silently and waited for the music to end before announcing her presence. Ben opened his eyes, still dreamy from the music. He smiled.

“Hey. I missed you.” He raised his beer to her. “I’m completely knackered. _And_ no thanks to you, my weekend just started out lonely.”  
A returning smile crept onto Sarah’s face. “Not anymore!”

She tossed the keys to her Kia on the mail table, sighing. Her laptop bag and purse were abandoned as well, sprawled out on the floor. Thank God it was Friday.

Benedict’s eyes flitted over her outfit, which he hadn’t had a real chance to appreciate this morning. God, she was wearing a pencil skirt. _That_ pencil skirt. It accented her curves perfectly, fitting perfectly against her ass. She had chosen to wear something that makes her look good without too much effort. A dark blue cardigan (which Benedict knew was her favorite) paired perfectly with a simple white blouse.

Running her hand through her wind-tousled hair. Seeing he was already chilling without her, she exclaimed, “Ooh, I need a one of those too! Be right back!”

Toeing off her heels, allowing them to lie where they had fallen, she wandered over into the kitchen. She opened the fridge to find a bright orange sticky note stuck to one of the beer bottles. Peeling it off, she read Benedict’s messy pen writing, in blue ink:

**_Remember that request you made several weeks ago? I do._ **

**_first pointer to the grand prize behind._ **

She turned the bottle over in her hands to find a second sticky-note in the same colour:

**_My pretty lady, in the nook, with her favourite book._ **

_Riddles?_ Sarah stifled back a giggle. Ben was so _childish!_ She grabbed the beer and strode to the living room.

“What the hell is this?” She asked, waving the Post-it note accusingly in the air.

“Nothing. Just thought we could add a little suspense to it.”

Benedict knew she loved having these little games. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is always more magical than winning the lottery. Oh she’s going on an adventure! He smiled internally at the tacky personal joke.

Clutching the beer awkwardly aside, Sarah leaned forward. She kissed him chastely on the corner of his mouth, as if stating a courteous “You deserve this because I haven’t seen you all day”. And before Benedict can be disappointed, her soft lips met his in a passion that smeared “God I miss you!” all over. His lips parted, meaning as invitation. Suddenly it occurred to him that they should keep the best for last. With an effort, Benedict forced himself to pull back. Sarah was unbalanced in her eagerness. He steadied her with hands on her shoulders. Her disgruntled discontemptment had him laughing out cheerily.

“Not yet my dearest. You should have fun with the treasure hunt first.” He turned his head slightly and winked.

“You are so mean!” She complained.

Sarah put the bottle to her lips before realizing she had forgotten the bottle opener in all the excitement. Feigning indifference, she turned and marched back into the kitchen. Straight-backed and head tilted proudly, she would have made a lovely sight. Princess Belle would not have look more capable of taking care of herself. Benedict gulped down his snickering laugher as he watched her backside. Her hair was a mess, he had made sure of that. That hair is more worthy of Merida from Brave.

Sarah, turned to see her husband choking in his own amusement. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”

“Nothing!” His voice was an octave higher than usual.

She eyed him suspiciously before turning back to the kitchen.

After wandering back to the kitchen again for the bottle opener, Sarah flopped down onto the couch. But not without shoving her husband’s legs out of the way, surprising Benedict.

“You are such an oversized cat Ben! Dinner?” She asked, popping the cap off. She took a long swig, relishing the chill of the bitter-sweet liquid rolling over her taste buds.

“Dragons are oversized cats, my dearest,” Benedict answered, his voice an octave lower. He flipped onto his hands and knees, right on top of Sarah. His long legs caged hers. His knees were on the sofa by her hips, and he rounded his back so his upper torso overshadowed her menacingly. He cocked his head at her reptilian-like. “We don’t like being shoved around. For your bad manners, I could have you for dinner, but there’s Chinese takeout in the fridge to reheat. You are lucky.” He emphasized the “k” with a click of his tongue. The act was about the most he can manage while improvising without a script. He let the mask drop and set down again beside his giggling wife, gesturing towards the direction of the fridge. “Why? You hungry?” It wasn’t really a question. As he said this, he rested his legs across Sarah’s lap, blockading her from getting up. It was still early, and he really wanted to sit and just talk with her more. He didn’t leave room for rejection. Sarah sighed a deep dramatic sigh at this, pretending to be annoyed, but she let them stay.

“Not really. I ended up giving in to the 4 p.m. cravings and bought a muffin. I’m hopeless aren’t I?”

“Good God! Catastrophe!” He threw up his hands in sarcasm.

They continued discussing their day: Benedict on the new TV show for the BBC (he being discreet about almost everything that’s interesting), pranks that happened on set, the fans he’s met; Sarah on the latest development with her research, the ridiculously high simulation results, their new proposals for nanobot testing, (“Of course, nanobot is a silly name for something like that!”) interesting things that happened on her way to work... Before too long, both beer bottles stood empty at the food of the sofa. Benedict had a hand under Sarah’s blouse, resting easily with his thumb hooked over the helm of her skirt.

Sarah, suddenly remembering the sticky-note, sighed dramatically to mask her embarrassing excitement. She felt like a little girl getting her first puppy all over again. “I _suppose_ I should go look for this ‘grand prize’.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh please. I know you’re more excited than you let on. Don’t give me this third rate drama!”

She leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder, her arms coming up to hug him. She said sweetly, “Oh, it’s your job to do good acting, not mine. I’ll just sit back and enjoy your pretty face. Now then….” There was a slight pause. “My favorite book. Which one could it possibly be?”

Her favorite book. Of course, he knew its _The Hobbit_. He teased her about it, claiming she must have loved it because of the _magnificent, majestic, and smart dragon._ She stuck her tongue at him and called him a helpless narcissist then. There simply was something so wonderful about this childish book. A small hobbit, accustomed to the comfort of home, dreaming about an exciting life but didn’t have the courage to make things happen. She feels that way sometimes. If only she too could be suddenly being dragged into an adventure!

She wants to visit exotic Tibet. She dreamt about the clean cold air, the endless mountains, the majestic buildings, and the people. She wants to go to musical Vienna again. She wants to walk the stony alleyways paved with history. She wants to get lost in big cities and jungles alike… She wants to see the world and love them! Not that she’s not content being anywhere where Ben is. But books and stories, they struck such a chord in people! Luring you into the wonders of adventures in foreign lands, tempting you to throw everything away and plunge into danger, whispering at the dead of the night, in your dreams, about all that could be. Like Peter Pan, they take your hand when your loved one isn’t looking and teach you to fly out the window. Sure, one has to return to reality in the end, but they leave an emptiness that nothing could quite fill. So you have to go back to the library and take down more books, and dream up more adventures.

Actors are lucky to live out part of that dream when they work.

Right, that’s too much thinking. She needed action! Suddenly, Sarah removed Benedict’s legs from her, taking off gleefully up the stairs.

“I’m gonna find it before you get me!” She taunted.

“No fair!” He replied, laughing as he took off after her, knocking over a beer bottle. He carried the likeliness of a teenage boy--all arms and limbs and smiles. He felt rather like one too.

Sarah bounced into the room, breathless from exercise and laughter. All fatigue from work seemed to be forgotten. Her lover stumbled in a moment later. He flicked on the light switch, saving the room from darkness before the last streaks of sunlight from outside dies out.

They found precious book tucked neatly and carefully on the shelf sandwiched between _The Silmarillion_ and _The Fellowship of the Ring_ unlike some of Sarah’s more used engineering manuals, or Benedict’s research materials, or the new stuff they couldn’t stop from buying every time they visit the bookstore. Those occupied most available surfaces around the second floor. Sure they have a small library, but it had long been overflow with books. The couple, having shared interests in literature, and with one of them being an actor and the other an engineer, bookshelves crammed the walls from the study to the corridor outside, scripts and manuals sprawl all over the place. Contemporary and classic drama, poetry, philosophy, books on the cosmos and other sciences lined the staircases. They were hell to tidy up when they expected guests, but the duo never minded.

Sarah stood on tiptoe, her petite hands barely touching the spine of the book. She struggled a bit before finally getting it down. Flipping through the pages excitedly, she quickly found it. Nestled between pages 192 and 193 was a second message written on a blue sticky-note.

“Oh my god! Did you actually put the note where Smaug is talking?” Sarah jabbed him with the book.

“Hey! I can indulge in some character self-love.”

**_Hello my darling, it seems you have found your next clue._ **

**_Now, try not to blush…_ **

Underneath it, was yet another sticky-note. Again in matching colours with the one above it.

**_Thought we’d skip it, too bizarre_ **

**_this place; though not, to minds feverish with desire._ **

And she was blushing. Sex with Ben didn’t alarm her. After all, they had been married for two years now and dated for more before that. It was more… the directness with which Benedict had with it. The constant innuendos in seemingly innocent conversations…. Actors! They have no shame! There was the glorious descent from the stairs in his birthday suit, And the dirty talking, And inappropriate touching… in public places too! _Those_ were prevalent.

Benedict kissed her heated cheek. She crinkled her nose in return.

She moved to pull her hair back from her face. Benedict caught her wrist, gently pressing a kiss on the tiny little Saturn tattooed there. Another kiss fell on the crescent moon. Another to the half a dozen stars adorning her wrist. They are remnants of her early college years, representing her adoration for the universe, as well as the proof that she was not alone in any fight she was fighting.

“You are a goddess of a million galaxies.” He whispered into her wrist.

Sarah smiled. It was the type of smile that is brighter than a million sunshines, that tells of a billion kind and happy days. With the utmost attentiveness, Benedict pushed her cardigan off her shoulders. It fell to the ground uselessly. Sarah pulled him into a kiss before he bent down to run kisses up her arm. It trailed past the shoulder of her blouse, one kiss placed on each of the stars tattooed on her collarbone.

The kisses trailed their way up her neck, purposely aiming for her weak spot. Sarah made a noise of content as he finally reached her lips. By now, she was glowing. God, she loved him so much.

With a clunk, she dropped the book, forgetting all about it for a moment. Both hands threaded into his hair, full on frontal snogging him. Benedict held her in his arms, letting out an appreciative groan.

It was almost like a dance, the way they moved. They moved in tandem, one pressing forward, the other shuffling back. They became one. He gripped her hips, pulling them flush against him. She pulled at handfuls of shirt, pressing herself against him.

In between little nips and open mouthed kisses, Benedict managed to get out a “Where’s the next clue, Sherlock?”

Sarah groaned into their kiss. “You bastard!”

She wanted to kiss him like the world was ending. But she pulled back and her hand reached for his. They tripped their way downstairs, stopping to pepper each other with kisses every several steps.

 _Bizarre_ … That must mean the strangest place they made love. Now where would that be? Ben would say the kitchen, but he knew that Sarah would go for the closet-turned-laundry room. After all, the counter sex wasn’t that strange to Sarah. She just found it erotic. It’s the thrill of feeling the taboo of doing something naughty in places that are supposed to be kept clean. And God! The moans that Ben had made…

Keeping the memories to herself, Sarah marched purposefully down to the ground floor closet. Benedict followed dutifully behind. The closet was behind a plain white slated door, which blended in with the white of the walls around it. Stopping only for a brief moment in front of the door, Sarah swung it open in one swift move, and pulled Benedict inside with her.

The momentum had him crashing into her. After a painful hip-check with the washer, Sarah ended up against the wall in between the washer and dryer, with Benedict on top of her, his face full of confused bewilderment.

The last rays of evening had completely died out, and it was dark in the laundry. The two lovers found each other by the feel of their bodies pressed together, intertwined in harmony. When their eyes adjusted to the dark, they could see the dim outline of the other’s features. He, with hands pressing her shoulders, came up for breath. That was when the flashes of a headlight from a neighbor’s car shown in, throwing streaks of light through the slats. In the brief moment, he saw her parted lips, slightly swollen. Her eyes glinted, giving her an eerie out-of-the-world feel. He groaned, closed his eyes, and dived in for more heated kisses. His hands cushioned her head against the hard wall. His fingers ruffled her hair. His hand, pressed flat on the wall beside her head, slid down to the switch for the overhead light. Sarah’s small hand, moving swiftly along his arms, traced the profile of his palms, lacing their fingers together and pulling his hand away.

“Not yet.” She whispered.

She didn’t have to say more. Benedict caught on quickly. His demeanor changed, pressing her against the wall. He could see and feel the need in her eyes and body, greedily demanding everything he has got. And everything she shall get.

Now he was the bad boy, speaking in blunt and dirty language, relishing in the shy blush that rushed to Sarah’s cheeks at his every word. “Remember when I took you against these walls? You were so wanton, demanding me to go faster, yet never receiving your wish. The combined lust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. I know how badly you want that now; to be pressed against the wall. Defenseless.”

A noise caught in Sarah’s throat. She was halfway between wanting to rip off her lover’s clothes right here and now and pure insanity. Blood rushed throughout her body. Her panties were definitely getting damp.

Feeling bold, Sarah pulled Benedict down, giving him a bruising kiss. She wove her fingers through his hair. Dopamine flooded her system.

Benedict braced his hands on either side of her. He kissed back with equal want. To see her against that wall, fingernails digging into him in pure bliss as she tumbled over the edge. Oh god. What she did to him. He lingered slightly, pulling back just to tease her with teeth on her lower lip.

And just like that, the ephemeral teasing was over as soon as it had started. Benedict groped around for the pull cord. A second later, the closet was bathed in light.

“Fucking god.” She panted out. How dare he end it like that!

And there it was. Another post-it note sticking on the washer in all its bright orange glory.

**_Congrats darling, you found the last clue._ **

**_I hope I haven’t made you too horny yet. Last one to go._ **

The riddle that follows on the separate sticky-note made Sarah’s heart warm with glee:

**_Morning arises,_ **

**_Your beauty my sensation apprises_ **

She was, however, puzzled about its meaning for a moment. I see your beauty… She assume this was related to a place as well, but where? In the mornings… She decided to try the bedroom. It fits, and she told Benedict. He just smiled inconspicuously, giving nothing away.

The sight of his curling lips had Sarah losing her head again. She dived in for another kiss, much more aggressive than all the previous kisses.

It was yet another several minutes later when they finally stumbled out of the closet with some awkwardness, like two teenagers that just had an intense make out session.

After ambling upstairs yet again, the couple found themselves in the bedroom. She flicked on the light, illuminating the queen size bed and cozy furniture. Clothing lay here and there on the floor, showing the hard-pressed mornings when clothes had to be thrown on and breakfast eaten in the car.

“So, Sherlock, where is your prize?” He inquired, receiving a raise eyebrow in return.

“You expect _me_ to know _your_ hiding spot?” She crossed her arms, smirking.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, an unconscious habit that made him look years younger.

“You’re the detective, you tell me...”

She sighed, thought for a moment and began in imitation of Benedict’s famous acting gig, speaking in triple her usual speed. “It’s not in the closet, because I basically dig through to the back every morning. It’s not your dresser, because that thing is stuffed to the gills. I’d say…. Under the bed on your side.”

“Bravo! Told you that you could get it.”

“Aren’t you going to say I’m brilliant? That’s what Watson always does.”

“That was brilliant.” Benedict said dutifully, dragging on the “was”. He laughed as Sarah protested that he was being insincere, and ducked away from her poking finger. Keening down, he came up a second later with a box. It was Tiffany blue with small cursive _VS_ s written across white stripes. It was a special gift box from Victoria’s Secret! Sarah squealed with delight.

He handed the box to Sarah meticulously. Limbs feeling weak with trembling excitement, she placed it on the bed, almost as if she was afraid she would drop it and the box would break. She knew the fear was dumb, but she was also feeling extraordinary silly in the head. She set down beside it, no longer trusting her legs to sustain her weight, and began unwrapping.

After flipping open the lid and unfolding the layers of tissue papers, her eyes was met with the most gorgeous lingerie set she’d ever laid eyes on. It was a bralette, laced in such a way that it was see-through in parts, surely to create a most sensational sight for the wearer. Floral print with black silk ribbons were woven on the back and along the shoulder straps. It looked as sexy as a corset but was apparently many times more comfortable. There was a matching panty as well. The black ribbons could be tied together on the side. Sarah felt breathless just thinking about wearing them. It was an unusual design but not at all skimpy, nor over the top revealing. It was... well, one can only call it a work of art.

Sarah was struck speechless. And all that came out of her mouth was a soft “Oh!”

She was blushing furiously. Her brain going overdrive just trying to make sense of what to do next. She wanted to say it was lovely, but it was more than that. She wanted to thank him for the wonderful gift, but no words seems enough to express her gratitude. She wanted to kiss him and hug him and love him all at the same time, but her legs had turned to jelly.

“Oh!” she said again. “Ben, I’d do anything for you and more!”

Benedict was struck with the sudden urge to laugh loudly. Sarah, the angel, will always thinking of other people's wants and needs first. By god she’ll make a good mother!  
But Sarah was not over with her appreciations yet. She set the gifts down carefully and threw her arms around Benedict’s waist, pressing her head to his abdomen. “Oh but Ben, you know what I like so well!” Sarah had gotten over her initial surprise, and was now up and dancing around her lover in delight. “How did you do it? It must be so hard! I can hardly tell what I want myself when I went shopping!”

She was closer to the truth than she knew. But Benedict wasn’t going to admit that just yet. He thought back at the panic he experienced at Victoria’s Secret, but decided it’s a story for another time. Today, he got to enjoy being the hero for a bit longer. "Come now Sarah, we’ve been married for two years now. You don’t think I know what you like? You're not the type of woman who likes to wear tons of frills or something that hardly even qualifies as panties. You like lace and flowers and cute little bows on things. Confidence is what's sexy on you, not skimpy little things. And this is what'll make you hot as fuck: Something that you're confident in.”

Sarah was giggling now. Direct compliments was not something she could take easily. It felt like her heart were going to burst with love.

“God, I fucking love you.” She laughed out, kissing his lips hastily. Benedict soon caught the contagion, and was soon laughing into her mouth, the two of them a giggly, kissing, desperately-in-love couple.

“This is all about you. Not me. You. Go try it on.” He nudged her while pressing the box into her hands.

“It’s beautiful.” She giggled.

“I know. It’s going to look even better when it’s on you.”

She made an “Mmm” noise of agreement. With one final kiss, she made her way to the master bathroom, stepping over a laundry basket, a couple pairs of heels and dress shoes, and a toppling stack of books.

Suddenly, arms came around her, lifting her up slightly. She yelped in surprise. Benedict breathed softly behind her ear, his voice deep and throaty. “Just a moment, my lovely, we haven’t have dinner yet. With that beautiful body of yours, I’d hate to waste it as food...”

He didn’t realize it was going to be more a torture to himself than it was to her...

\---

Benedict had trouble concentrating on dinner. He had no idea what went down his stomach. The thought of his carefully chosen gift finally on his lovely wife was too much to bare. Just think how happy and giggly she will be! But nothing’s going to happen unless they finish dinner. He loathed himself for insisting on it now. He vaguely wondered how Sarah took it so well. She just set there, eating slowly, for all the world looking like a well-educated lady. But of course she hadn’t looked at her gifts properly, whereas he, from the day he visited Victoria’s Secret, cannot but fantasize about what is to come... He forced down his last mouthful of food and slammed the chopsticks on the table, much harder than intended.

“That’s it! I want to see it on you. Now!”

Sarah jumped. She recovered quickly, saw the chance to tease him, and took it.

“Not here. I want the mirror.”

“Alright, race you to the bedroom!”

He didn’t wait a minute longer. He dashed out of the dining room and up the stairs in a flash. Leaving Sarah to comprehend what he had said exactly. She, having expected some retort to her teasing, took a second longer than usual to come to her senses.

She shouted, “Hey!” and was on his heels at once.

When she got to the bedroom however, Benedict was no where in sight. She stepped inside cautiously. “Ben?”

A hand went over her mouth and an arm held her tight by the waist. There was a muffled protest.

“Gotcha!” said Benedict triumphantly.

“Mmmph… mmph...” she struggled in his arms. Upon realizing that resistance is futile, she reached behind and poke Benedict’s side. His grips loosened at once. She duck out of reach.  
He just stood and laughed. “Well then, get started with the gifts already!”

“Alright! Alright! But I don’t want you watching. It’s embarrassing.”

“Darling I’ve seen you naked over a thousand times! What’s there to be embarrassed about? You have a beautiful body.”

“It’s not that… Just turn around. And don’t you dare peek!”

He put a hand over his eyes obediently. Of course he, being Ben, had to look behind him from under his arm before she gives the okay. She found him tiptoeing halfway over to her, in the act of performing an ambush. She hooted angrily at him. “I said not to peek!”

He held up both hands in surrender.

“Sorry, can’t resist. You have no idea what sort of image my mind was conjuring up for me.” He looked her over. “Mmm… I must say, it falls short immensely miserably. I am having you for dessert after all.” He made to jump at her, as a dragon might. Sarah shrieked and ducked into the bathroom, hiding behind the door. She poked her head out cautiously. “Oh no, you naughty dragon. Don’t you have better things to do than eating girls for fun? Like guarding your hoard of treasure, for instance.”

“I am guarding my treasure. It’s right in front of me.” He gestured to the bathroom mirrors. “Will you just look at that.” And Sarah looked and was captivated by her image. She puffed up her breasts to examine the effect, and then turning around to stick her ass towards the mirror. It was quite a sight!

Her performance earned an “Ooh-la-la!” from Benedict. His face was giddy: Eyes crinkling at the edges, smile as goofy as the Grinch. He wanted to stalk up on her again, possibly manhandle her to the bed. He was ready to tiptoe to her.

She twirled around for him to see. “Well? What do you think? Am I ready to seduce you?”

Well, maybe next time. He sat on the bed, his arms open in invitation. She walked to him, her hips swaying as if she’s on the catwalk. When she reached the bed, she kissed him lightly on the forehead before climbing up to straddle him.

They kissed. Those kisses were a series of short little pecks at the corners of the lips and playful little nibbles.

Benedict’s cell phone rang. Its owner groaned in protest.

“I thought I turned it off,” he complained.

“Just ignore it darling.” Sarah cupped her lover’s face and turned him back to face her.

But the phone kept on ringing.

Finally Benedict pushed Sarah lightly away from him. “Sorry my love. But this is not the way tonight should go. I’m going to kill that damn phone.”

Sarah pouted but let him go. The thing wasn’t even in the room. She watched as Benedict padded out of the bedroom, his footfalls soft on the thick carpet. She heard him mumbling something that sounded like, “It had better not come from the agency.” The entertainment industry doesn’t even rest on weekends. Sighing, she flung herself on the bed and waited.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the almighty chapter!  
> Just to let you know, this is in Benedict's Point of view :)

The call took yonks, but it was important. When I finally made my way back upstairs, the bedroom was quiet. I stepped in and took in the sight before me.

Laying there between the mess of sheets was nature’s greatest masterpiece. Her hair lay splayed around her head like a golden halo. Her ivory skin, accented by lace and ribbons, were shining pearls in the dim city light from their bedroom windows, waiting to be marked.

I turned the ceiling lights off. The lights from the bedside lamp was much softer. Experience told us we don’t need to be blinded by the harsh brightness during sex.

Wind was blowing outside our window. It must have been a branch of the maple we planted together, not long after we came back from our honeymoon. It tapped lightly on our window. Sarah, always easily startled, snapped her head to look at the source anxiously. Her delicate ears and fine neckline presented a feast to the onlooker. I should have assured her that nothing’s going to barge in from the window and harm us, but I got distracted.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you are right now.” I breathed the one thing that was on my mind. It was exactly like the first time I saw the girl. Memories consumed my mind’s eye. I was no longer in the room. Instead, I was transported back to that fateful day long ago, away from London.

It wasn’t the first time I see the female race. Real life is never that dramatic. But to me it was the first time I realized how utterly pretty and magical girls can be. It was the autumn of ‘92. The sky was threatening with rain. I sat on the train, and, despite the worn paperback in my lap, feeling bored and all too aware of the disgusting smell of tar and age-long sweat clinging stubbornly to the worn seats. I was on my way back to school from a show in Edinburgh. Already the thrill of the story is fading in my mind, replaced by the dreary anticipation of the long ride back. Back to the world full of teenage boys where one should always be alert for pranks, for good or ill. I stared out of the window, seeing nothing but my own imagination. Suddenly, I’m not sure how it happened, but the cloud on the glass seemed to clear, and there she was, on the platform, just outside my window. Wrapped in a gorgeous red coat, her cheek rosy, her lashes long, her lips full in the color of sweetest cherry. It was only a half-turned profile, but I knew I was in love. I was in love for the first time. And, as I believed, I was in love for the last time.

I gaped out of the window, completely forgetting myself. I must have looked an idiot. Only when the departure whistle sounded was I brought out of that enchantment. The shrill sound was too cruel and unfriendly as the train started rolling out of the station. I turned my head desperately, and pressed my nose on the glass. I may have gasped out in fear.

 _I have to see her for a bit longer...._ I wanted to open my window and shout out my feelings for her, if only just to make her turn around. Still her face was partly obscured by her flowing blond hair. That blond hair! It was the last thing I remember of her, blond silks braided and with a tartan ribbon tied into a bow near her ear. A single purple thistle was set between the braids. For a moment I felt jealousy flaming up at the thought that some lucky Scottish lad had his fingers brushed against those beautiful hair as he set the flower there.

The train picked up speed, and envy melt into desperation. _I had to remember her! Somehow I have to find her again. If not in this life, then the next, or the one after that. I would be lost without her...._

It seemed like a lifetime ago, she was ever present, in my thoughts, in my dreams, in the lead actresses I acted with on stage. The girl who had a flower in her hair. The girl whose features are soft and whose will are strong. In my dreams she was ever the brave leader of the rebel alliance against the galactic empire. She was the anxious princess, desperately searching for that one hope of survival. In her delicate voice whispering, “Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi…”

In the end, I grew up, inevitably, and gave up on such fantasies. And yet… like a miracle, that sweet sweet silhouette of a girl solidified, and was no longer a shadow. She came back into my life when I least expected it. Now, she lay in my bed and in my arms. I looked down at her, and my stomach fluttered.

She has most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen...

Reality caught up with me when I felt Sarah struggling with the tight jeans I was wearing. My shirt was already unbuttoned. I smiled to myself, pleased at Sarah’s impatience. The thermostat was set too low again. I shrugged off my shirt anyway, knowing that things were going to heat up pretty soon. Sarah was still pushing at the jeans, now rather frustratingly. I brushed her delicate fingers aside and removed my trousers and pants. I kicked them away off the bed carelessly, before leaning down to kiss Sarah lightly, intending to comfort her.

Sarah reached up, clasping her hands behind my neck. She started dragging me back down to bed. I put my hands under her back and lifted her easily, so we were kneeling knee to knee.

Feeling the structure of her delicate bones at her back, using their shape as guide, I found the clasps on the bralette. My fingers were trembling again. The clasps are usually the trickiest part, goodness knows how many times I was laughed at for failing to undo them properly. Sarah’s had her fun over the years, I wasn’t going to be defeated by a few pieces of metal tonight.

Thankfully, they came off without mayhem.

“See? I can do it properly.” I whispered triumphantly.

Sarah raise her arms to help me undress her. “It’s one tally mark for you this time.” She agreed.

“Are we keeping scores now?”

“Of course, I have the scoreboard tucked up somewhere you can’t find them.”

“It’s not keeping a fair score if you’re the only referee."

“Are you calling me a liar, dear husband?”

“No, of course not, your highness.”

 _Your highness…_ The name I’ll call her till the end of my days. Sarah thought it was just another of the endearing nickname I call her. But it meant so much more to me. _Should I explain to her some time?_

I never told Sarah about that day. It is a secret too personal even for her, whom I confide in almost everything. Perhaps I am afraid that she would say, “No, I was never there on that platform.” And the beautiful image would be shattered. Even though it was never about that girl on the platform but the idea of what perfection is that haunted me day and night, I am still afraid. Afraid that she’d take it the wrong way. Afraid that she’d think I’m not actually in love with her. These things get confusing so quickly. How can I explain it to her? That it wasn’t the face I loved. I don’t even really know what she’s like…. No. it wasn’t about that girl at the train station because no one but my Sarah can fit into that scene with perfection. She was the perfect casting of the romance unfolding in my dreams. Even God has nothing better to offer me.

“You are no angel, Sarah.”

I was alarmed to hear that I’ve spoken aloud. The words sound wrong as soon as it came out of my mouth.

“God no… I mean… I mean… Well… an angel is not for a scruffy looking rogue, is she? You’re no angel… because you’re a princess, my princess.”

Sarah laughed musically. She had no doubts about my love for her.

“Oh Ben, you are adorable when you try so hard!”

“Hard? It’s the talking that’s hard!” I feigned a hurt look. “I’ll show you hard! I am rather a natural in bed, you know? I’ll have you screaming to high heaven in to time.”

My princess blushed, covering her face. I love how she still got frazzled by little compliments.

“Then show me.” She mumbled, peeking out of her hands.

I grinned.

When I went down on her, she squeaked in surprise at the contact of my lips in between her heaving breasts. She reached down and her fingers tightened around my shoulders. I turned a little, pressing my ears against her bosom, listening to the rapid beating beneath and breathing in her scent. This was soothing, staying like that. I will always be contempt just lying there and listen. If I closed my eyes, I can imagine the whole world beginning from that beating.

Her fingers danced across my shoulder blades. Rubbing and massaging the hard muscles there. I was sore from the week’s shooting and working out. I sighed. Not quite ready to move. I gave her breasts one last kiss before continuing my descent along her perfect skin, following the line of tiny freckles. We used to joke that it’s a space traveler’s mission, visiting all the stars.

She couldn’t help the giggles that escaped her lips as I arrived at her stomach. She squirmed and wiggled. But I kept on going.

Her belly was soft. I nosed her in the navel. She is ticklish there, and I was careful not to let her knee me on the side. Her legs came up nonetheless, so I grabbed her ankles to keep them steady. Her thighs squeezed at my sides. I looked up along her body to her face. Her eyes were tightly shut. Her hands, I noted with satisfaction, fisted the bed sheets on either side of her.

“Careful, princess, are you trying to squeeze the life out of me?”

“That’s because I know just how strong you really are, handsome.”

But the pressure eased. I listened to the tiny sounds inside her. They sounded so alive. I imagined another tiny heartbeat amongst these sounds. My own heart missed a beat, as it always does when the thought of filling her… She is well aware of my broody nature. But I am always conscious that she might be scared or offended if I told her I want “lots and lots and lots of children”. She is the one who’ll have to go through the ordeal after all…

“If you’re thinking about little Cumbers...”

I started, I have zoned out for a minute. I look up at her again. Sarah was laughing at me.

“As a matter of fact--”

She stopped me with a finger on my lips. “I’ll give you a hundred if you can handle them all. Now then, thinking don’t make babies.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

I kissed her right above the panty line, breathily reading out the cursive letters tattooed there, “With grace in her heart and flowers in her hair.”

Embarrassed, Sarah buried her face in the pillows. It was the perfect moment to flip her onto her stomach. My weight was on her lower body now. I love how her delicate shoulder blades moved as she tried to keep from squashing her arms in uncomfortable positions. They must be remnants of her feathery angel’s wings, I thought, before unwillingly tearing my gaze away and focus on the task in front of me. I leaned forward and kissed her soft behind through the lacy fabric of her new panty. Blindly, I felt for the ribbons on both sides undoing them and yanked the lace out of the way. Her hands instinctively came down to cover herself. This will not do, I noted. How could she still be this shy after all this time? I batted her hands away and squeezed her arse.

Also, finding the chance to be my favourite dragon, “Come now, don’t be shy. What is there to cover? I’ve seen it a thousand times.” Although I still can’t understand the appeal, they all love this deep throaty voice, and Sarah was no different.

She wiggled beneath me, giggling and mockingly protesting.

I climbed back atop her, pinning her down, but careful not to put my whole weight on her.

Sarah turned her head to one side, trying to see me better. With some difficulty, her hand came up to my buttock.

“That’s for squeezing me without permission.”

“Oh? I need to ask for permission now do I?”

I didn’t wait for an answer. Pulling her hair aside, I nuzzled against her by the crook under her ear. Her breath hitched. Our breaths mingled, wet and animalistic. I can hear her inhaling the remains of my day’s cologne. The heart note that smells of warm fireside in the study on a cold winter night--Sarah’s words. I liked the idea that she feels warm.

I moved to catch her lips, but the angle was awkward. It was driving me crazy. I decide to take what I can, settling for kissing her neck instead. Sarah’s breathing was already quick and frantic. Chances were, she wouldn’t notice what I’m about to do to her. I smiled to myself.

My lips connected with her skin, already beading with salty sweat. Gently, so as to avoid detection, I sucked. The result was only faintly red. But I knew with satisfaction that it would turn a deep shade of purple tomorrow. It would be bigger too, hard to cover up even if she wears a collared shirt tomorrow. Silently I prayed to God she wouldn’t notice it in the morning. Then I would have the satisfaction of seeing my mark--Mine!--when she put up a messy bun in the morning. I could smirk all through breakfast and she would have absolutely no idea.

She wiggled once more.

For a moment I thought she was protesting against my sucking kiss, but she just wanted me off her. I rolled over sideways, freeing her from the confinement of my weight. She shuffled backwards to sit up a little.

“Come here silly,” she tugged at my shoulder. “That was torturously slow of you.”

“I didn’t want to wolf you down.”

“Well, I do.” She scrambled on top of me.

“Oh no you don’t!”

With a heave of my body, I was on top of her again. Sarah squealed in surprise as we toppled dangerously close to the edge of the bed. I sat up and she tried to scramble away from me again, but I took her ankles and dragged her towards me.

One great thing about having sex with a ballet dancer is their great flexibility. I lifted Sarah’s leg and pressed my lips on her ankle, then let it rest on my shoulder before continue to leave a trail of kisses on the inner side of that leg. Sarah had stopped her pretended anger. Her small hands were pressed across my thorax, feeling the muscles that were subsiding from my last intensive workout session for a rather physical film project. She sighed then giggled as I reached her inner thigh.

Sarah put her other leg on my shoulder, and I kissed it with equal care. I could feel her calves resting across my back. With my arms on either side of her, I crawled upwards, my shoulders sliding against the back of her legs. This would no doubt be uncomfortable had Sarah not been stretching muscles as much as three days in a week with much more intensity. I don’t think I’ll never have the discipline enough to work my body that hard, not even for a film. We were now pressed against each other, her body bending with ease.

At last, we were connected as one.

Her gasp was barely audible. Her tiny hands pushed on my shoulders.

“Let me ride you, Ben....” This was what she said, even though she whimpered beneath me, and her limbs were wimpy from everything she was feeling. “You deserve it. Let me drive you mad with my loving.” I refused, rather more stubbornly than usual. It was her night, and I shall be the one to bring her ecstasy.

I had an elbow by her side, giving me purchase. With the other hand, I pulled her towards me by her slender waist. It was an easy lift, like scooping up water lilies from the pond. Her body arched from the bed, limp and delicate. A beautiful sight that stayed with me even when I closed my eyes.

When my hands reached her tender breasts, she took my hand and nibbled the pad of my palm lightly. My fingers closed around her cheeks, feeling the warmth there, and the tiny, almost unperceivable pulse near her jawline. Turning her head, I closed my eyes and breathe her in. Her lips parted and I kissed her. No, I devoured her.

Keeping myself under control was extremely difficult. My arm shook from the effort of holding up my own weight. This time, when Sarah’s hand came up and nudged me, I gave in. I rolled over on my side, taking her body with me. There we stayed, on our sides, both panting lightly, still intertwined, still as close to each other as heaven meant us to be. Unmoving and lost in each other’s presence, we took our sweet time to catch our breaths. Our hands were all over each other, trying to pull us closer. She draped a leg over me. Her hand traveled from my shoulder all the way down to my arse, tracing every muscle. I tried to grind against her, and her hands tightened their grip. It was bruising, as I found out the next morning (and to the amusement of the makeup department in the weeks that followed. _God, I have to remember to keep away from Sarah the week before scheduled nude scenes!_ ). At the time, however, the feeling of me inside her was so overwhelming that I hardly felt it. Someone could have came and stabbed me with a blunt knife and I wouldn’t have noticed.

I felt her body tense. She held on to me as she shuddered in my arms. I felt rather than heard her sobbing against my chest. Drawing her closer, I pressed our foreheads together, kissing her lightly until she relaxed in my embrace. _One._ I smiled to myself. _Let’s make it at least three._ She was breathing heavily. And I allowed her a little rest before starting moving again.

Sarah reached between us, wanting to help me hasten to the end. I took the hand, holding it by her side and pressed us tighter together. I shook my head. _I’m far from finished with her yet!_

“Let me worship you tonight, Sarah.”

“What do you mean Ben? I want to help.”

“Not yet my sweetest.”

Rolling on top again, I pinned her down with my weight. Her thighs, burning with the heat from her passion, held on to me tightly. I stroked her head and kissed her lightly on the lips. No tongue: desperation didn’t allow time for that. Her eyes closed, her long lashes tickled my cheek. She pulled me closer with the leg hooked over my waist.

I dropped down to taste the valley of her collarbone, then the peak of her breast. I needed to feel every part of her. I needed to get as close to her as possible. There’s no gentleness now. Force and speed was instinctive. The grunts and gasps we made no longer sound human. Thank heavens we were at our house in Bloomsbury, and not my workday flat. There was no need to worry about annoying the neighbors.

Once again, I felt Sarah’s body tensing. The bed sheet beneath us stretched taught in her tightening hold.

“I-I love you.” She gasped out.

“I know.” _God, I’ve been waiting all my life to say that._

Thank god Sarah didn’t even tease me for it or I’d have broken into a serious fit of laughter. She just sighed, her eyelids fluttering closed. I leaned down to kiss her again. _Ah my beautiful flower._

This time I didn’t allow her to rest. I was losing the fight with my instincts. I couldn’t help but roll my hips into hers, reveling in hearing the cacophony of noises that fell from her mouth. Each one contributing to a symphony we were composing.

“Ben… I can’t… Too much. Oh… Ben…” Sarah’s whimpers urged me on.

“I got you Sarah. One more, my darling, one more."

We pulled at each other. I felt for her clitoris. She wiggled beneath me, as if wanting to get away. I felt the growl deep within me. I felt her hipbones, hard against my groin.

We resorted to an almost animalistic need. I recall every salty scent of her sweaty skin, and every sweet aroma of her increasingly heavy musk… Sarah raked her fingers through my hair, trying to anchor herself. She tugged, sideways and down. Immediately, I was at her mercy, turning my face heavenwards, my eyes closed, a whine escaping my lips, the rhythm of my movements faltered for a moment. I have been known to be brought to my knees a number of times by that move alone. But I was determined to keep the rhythm up tonight. We continued to grind against each other, roughly, savagely.

For the third time that night, the beautiful form beneath me tensed. She screamed. If the high heavens hadn’t heard of my name from other nights before, they certainly would have now.

Suddenly, there was a crash as the lamp was knocked off the bedside table, along with several heavy hardcover novels. The bedroom plunged into darkness.

It didn’t matter. All I wanted was to feel her presence. My Sarah. My beautiful baby. I could hear her panting breath, and her pounding heart, beating in sync against mine. I felt the blood rushing in my veins. I closed my eyes. Even though it didn’t make much difference, somehow my senses got sharper. My skin stung where the salt got into scratch marks from Sarah’s nails.

Finally I gave in to my impulse. The orgasm hit hard thanks to the prolonged self denial. I fell against my angel, and there was no more thinking.

The sound of her panting gasps rang in my ears. Our hands slid across each other’s skin unable to hold on properly. Sweat ran down the hollow parts of our bodies, mingled and pooled where our skins touched. The sheets were sticky and hot where we rutted in near oblivion. The comforters had long since joined the heap of clothes on the floor.

Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the dim orange light from the streets. It shown sideways onto the bed, illuminating the slim figure next to me. The shadows from the tree outside danced across her angelic features, moved by the early autumn breeze.

It was a good couple minutes before she attempted to talk again. She opened her mouth, but her voice was ragged and dry. She closed them again and swallowed hard. I put a finger on her lips.

“I’ll get you a drink first.”

She held on to me. “No… Stay...”

I look down at her, the delicate bird beneath me, and opened my mouth to protest, but no sound came out. I was too caught on by the sheer beauty of girl that held my arm. My throat felt way too dry.

Her fingers met my jaw, gently she lifted my chin. I stopped gaping.

Sarah chuckled, her laughter sounded like Christmas chimes.

“I’m such an idiot.” I said, finally finding my voice.

“Yes,” she laughed. “But you are my idiot.”

I didn’t realize how worn out I was until she tugged at my hand. My arms gave way and I fell. I was careful to avoid her this time, and landed next to her. She draped herself over me like a soft blanket. Her ears pressed to my heart.

I gave in to the comfort for several minutes but what felt like seconds before attempting to reason with her again. “I’m getting you some water.”

“No… Ben. I want you to stay.” Her voice did sound like she really need a drink, but no less charming.

“I insist, Sarah. You should listen to yourself. That won’t do. I’ll be as quick as possible.”

I roll out of bed. My legs nearly crumbled beneath me. They were as wobbly as jelly fish.

A giggle broke out behind me. I ignored it and staggered to the bathroom.

* * *

I set the lamp back where it belonged on my way back and switched it on. Sarah ducked under the pillows when the sudden brightness hit her. Her shoulders were still out amidst a mess of golden hair. I tapped her on the shoulders. She protested with flailing arms. I tapped again. This time, she cautiously peeked an eye at me from beneath the pillow. Once again I was struck speechless at striking doe-ish blue eyes. _This really isn’t fair game!_

Composing myself (I’m an actor damnit!), I handed the cup to her. She drank gratefully. I picked up the comforter and flung them over her, before wiggling under. My feet were already cold, and I tried to keep them away from her, but she pressed her warm skin against mine.

“I told you to stay, but you won’t listen. Now look, you’ve got yourself cold.”

“For you, anything.”

“Oh my god I love you.” She mumbled, snuggling under my arm.

I sit up higher so I can admire the sight of her, curled up against me like a cat. I pull the covers higher, making sure she was comfortable. She shifted a little, pressing herself closer to me and resting her head against my torso. An arm protruded amidst a tangle of sheets, thrown haphazardly across my chest. It weighed so little… Glancing down, I see her face, bright and freckled, like the nymph of the forest. Her blue eyes shown with a different color, blinking lazily, full of happiness.

_“He looked at her the way all women want to be looked at by a man.…”_

So said F. S. Fitzgerald. Yet how can any man achieve that? I know I couldn’t. But Sarah, bless her, certainly looked at me the way all men wished to be looked at. She looked at me as if nothing else in the world mattered. She embraced my being with her contemptment. Her messy hair a field of gold. She glowed. She was the literal embodiment of an angel! At this moment, I swear I had never been more in love with her. And I know that love will only grow, no matter how you measure it.

“You were so beautiful that day at the train station…”

_A girl with flowers in her hair, clasping her red coat around her to fight against the northern cold. She was so small, yet impossible to overlook…_

“What train station?”

I was startled out of my musing for the third time that night. Sarah was staring at me in confusion. _God, what have I done?_

I had no choice but to tell her that little story of mine. She listened without once interrupting. I felt my tongue sticking in my mouth. I stammered through my narration. Worried that I had made a mess of things… Terrified that I had hurt the one soul I loved and cared the most in the world...

“Please don’t tell me you were never there…” I begged after I finished.

She just smiled without answering.

It was most unsettling, the way she smiled. It indicated nothing. It was more baffling than if she had cried, or made a scene, or storm off in silence. How can I explain to her that I wasn’t in love with her because she happens to fit an idealized image from a childhood love? I wished she understood that I’d be as crazily in love with her without that incident in Edinburgh?

“Darling,” her voice penetrated my chaotic thoughts. “I came from America. You knew the chances are slight that I was the girl in your memories. And still you’ve fallen in love with me. I know you’d love me no matter what. Now stop worrying and go to sleep.”

And so I took her advice and allowed myself to cuddle against her under the covers. Snuggling close to her, I left an exhausted kiss on her neck. I could still taste the salt from the quickly cooling sweat.

“Thank you for understanding.” I whispered exhausted, but with real gratitude.

There was a soft purr. A good sign that Sarah’s sleeping peacefully. My mind was wide awake from the wearisome confession. Surely things must have changed between us now, for better or for worse. Learning something like that must have hurt, even to a generous and understanding person like Sarah. I sighed. _What will I do if I’ve lost her?_ I looked at her upturned face, purer than the morning star, and I thought of all the awkward moments doing sex scenes in the studio. No, real love-making is never like that. I would be lying if I said I wish they’d be as beautiful. But no, as much as I love my job, as much as I want to be as truthful as possible, the real thing is not something I can share with the world. I was terrified that our relationship just might degrade to that, had Sarah lost her faith in me. I felt bitter tears fighting to break from my eyes and blinked them away. If that happens, I have only myself to blame.

There was no telling how she had taken it. Her soft features, still and tranquil, showed no sign of distress. How could such angel stand a bastard like me? It was all too good to be true...

I realized my fingers were stroking her exposed arm and stopped. It’s not right to break this peace by waking her. I was tired, my eyelids felt heavy, but I can’t close my eyes yet. Like that day on the train, I had to look for a bit longer, remembering every detail, so that I would recognize her, whenever and wherever she is. If I lost her today, I will find her tomorrow.

Despite my efforts, Sarah still opened her eyes.

“God… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Stop being a drama queen, Ben. You’re not in a disaster movie. Everything's fine.” She put a hand over my eyes. “Go to sleep.”

She really know how to make me smile. I took her hand away and held it against my body.

“Tell that to yourself, Sarah.”

“Not until my bad boy’s in my arms. This is your last warning.”

“I’m a bad boy?”

“Of course,” She draped herself over me, her face fractions away from mine. And then she leaned in, kissing me, slowly, deeply, as if she never wanted to breathe again.


	4. Epilogue

After a drizzle that must have started in the small hours of the night, the early English fog had come and gone. Now the sun was shining on clear blue skies. Just in time too, for it happened to be the first day of spring. It was going to be a beautiful weekend. Over his eggs and bacon, Benedict suggested going out somewhere private and quiet to get the most of the sun.

Sarah was in the shower when her husband came in, asking what she wanted to wear so he could lay her clothes out for her. He was going to take her to see wildflowers.  
Sarah called for him to pick out anything he liked in her wardrobe for her. So he went and checked out her wardrobe. All her winter attire was still out. He searched through the closed drawers instead for the dresses she’s put away for winter. Sundresses should be illegal, he thought with fondness as he took the lovely printed clothes out. They make ladies look all too intoxicating, especially when Sarah’s wearing them. (“She’ll be the death of me!” Ben muttered to himself.) One day he’ll cause a car accident simply because he can’t keep his hands off her.

As he immersed himself in thoughts and imaginings of his beloved wife, Benedict came across a stack of clothes several sizes too small for Sarah, but which she was probably too fond to throw away. And there, wrapped in a clear garment bag and folded neatly in half, was a red coat. He took it out in astonishment. It was the exact same one from his memories.

“Don’t be absurd, Cumberbatch.” Benedict sat and tried to still his beating heart. “Your mind is playing tricks on you. Sarah grew up in America, she’s never been to Scotland. She would’ve told you the story otherwise.”

He shook his head, and was about to put it back into the drawer when he noticed a tartan ribbon tied like a necklace over the hanger. He pulled it carefully out. Attached was an old fashioned medicine pouch. Feeling he was intruding, but unable to contain his curiosity, he opened it. His fingers trembled, anticipating what he wished he’d find inside but at the same time terrified to be disappointed.

Lying at the bottom of the little pouch, among some other small trinkets, was a dried thistle.  
Behind, unheard and unnoticed by the actor, stood the girl from the Edinburgh train station. Her hair wet from the shower, dripping water everywhere despite the towel wrapped around her body. She watched her husband keeling motionless in front of the drawer, the contents of the pouch emptied to his open palm.

And she smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it <3

**Author's Note:**

> likes/ comments appreciated!  
> Visit us on Tumblr:  
> [marcusmumfords](http://marcusmumfords.tumblr.com) (aTARDISfullofotters)  
> [whispering-imp](http://whispering-imp.tumblr.com) (whispering_imp)


End file.
